A Helping hand
by Rocklover91
Summary: Discontinued. I'm sorry to do this, but I really don't remember what I had planned for this story. If I come up with anything, I'll continue. But don't count on it. What happens when Draco Malfoy begins to see that his father doesn't know everything? Who will be there to help him find the truth? Dramione. Rated T for later chapters. May change.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter and his friends. His enemies either, come to think of it. I wish._**

**_I will try to stick to canon events when I can, but some things will be changed to fit my purposes. Enjoy.

* * *

_**

Draco Malfoy had never really understood the reasoning behind much of what his father always said. "Draco, Gryffindors are far more foolish than we Slytherins, and should be treated as such." Why? Okay, the one Gryffindor he had met, Peter Pettigrew, was a complete fool, but… if his father was anything to consider about a Slytherin, they are hardly perfect so what's the difference? "We Purebloods, Draco, are far superior to half-bloods. Mudbloods do not deserve to learn magic. Muggles are mere filth and deserve nothing but death." But why were so many people considered beneath his family? What's so special about them? And wasn't his own Uncle Sev a half-blood? "Albus Dumbledore is a barmy old fool, Draco. Do not trust him." But everything he had read about Dumbledore had told another story.

So Draco told himself that once he started school, he would put his father's theories to the test.

* * *

"I must ask that you do one specific thing for me this year, my son." Draco looked up at his father, carefully aligning his face so as to hide the dread settling within him. "I found out only yesterday, and this is my final chance to inform you of this. Harry Potter will be in your year." Draco gasped. "I must ask that you befriend the boy. He may be – of assistance – once our Lord returns."

"Yes, father."

Draco said a quick goodbye to his mother and father and boarded the train. His father's friends' sons, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle Jr., had already taken Draco's trunk to a compartment. Draco simply had to follow them to find it.

An excited squeal met his ears. "Harry Potter! Can you believe it?" The speaker was clearly a Hufflepuff, shown by the symbol of a yellow badger on her robes. Whispers followed that statement, and Draco knew what he had to do. He followed the direction of pointed fingers and whispers. He gestured to Crabbe and Goyle to follow, and they flanked behind him. He slid the compartment door open and was met with a shock.

He had already met this boy when he had gone to Diagon Alley for his school supplies. This was the same boy who he had spoken to in Madame Malkin's robe shop. How could he have been so stupid! He had spoken to Harry Potter of all people, without ever even recognizing him.

"Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes." The boy seemed to recognize him as well, but was too busy staring at the two goons standing behind himself.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle. And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." There was a snicker from the boy who had been in the compartment with Potter before Draco had entered. He was clearly a Weasley. Time to find out whether his father was right about one thing, at least.

Draco stood a little straighter, and said with distain, "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

Weasley flushed with anger, but Draco turned away from him, a dismissal clear in his silver eyes. Potter was his primary concern at the moment. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than other, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." Draco held out his hand to Potter. But the other boy simply stared at him, refusing the hand.

After a bit more confrontation, and after the thug Goyle got bitten by Weasley's rat, we turned to leave. I knew a lost cause when I saw one, and Potter was definitely angry. I could make up for it at Hogwarts; he seemed Slytherin enough.

But as we swiftly walked out of the compartment, Malfoys do not run after all, a girl was coming to investigate the noise. She had probably had heard Goyle's scream. She had bushy brown hair, and large front teeth. But what drew me the most was her shining brown eyes.

"What are you three up to? I heard a scream."

Crabbe and Goyle straightened to their tallest, and I said lazily, "I'd say nothing, but you seem too smart to believe that."

The two boys stared at me in shock and apparent disgust, and the girl flushed slightly. "Get lost, Mudblood," one of the two said, and the girl's flush disappeared. She looked genuinely confused, and it hit me. She was muggleborn. And I had complimented her. I scoffed at her and strode past, not looking back. Crabbe and Goyle may be stupid, but they could make my life miserable if they mentioned this one at the next holiday.

* * *

Draco and his fellow first years formed two parallel lines and entered the Great Hall. He heard the muggleborn girl from before whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, a History_." Draco rolled his eyes at Pansy Parkinson, who was beside him. She smirked.

The sorting hat sang, followed by loud cheers. And then Professor McGonagall stepped forward again.

"Abbott, Hannah," was the first, and an instant Hufflepuff. Draco whispered to Parkinson, "Bet on who's going to be what while we wait?"

"Sure, Dray!"

"Boot, Terry." Draco whispered "Gryffindor," and Pansy agreed.

"RAVENCLAW!" The two friends sighed.

"Brown, Lavender." Both assumed Gryffindor, and were both correct.

"Bulstrode, Millicent."

"Slytherin," Draco and Pansy whispered at the same time.

"SLYTHERIN!" the sorting hat shouted, and both grinned.

Both agreed on Slytherin for "Crabbe, Vincent," Hufflepuff for "Finch-Fletchley, Justin," and Slytherin for "Goyle, Gregory." All choices were correct.

A few more people were sorted, and then it was the girl from before.

"Granger, Hermione."

"Ravenclaw," Draco whispered, and again, Pansy agreed.

It took almost a minute before, "GRYFFINDOR!" Draco sighed. He heard Weasley groan, and changed the sigh into a snicker.

"Malfoy, Draco." Draco stepped forward, sitting on the stool. The second the hat touched his head, a deafening "SLYTHERIN!" was heard. He smirked, and went to sit beside his… his what? Crabbe and Goyle could not be considered his friends.

Pansy Parkinson joined him a short time later.

And then the next name he listened for was heard.

"Potter, Harry." The room went dead silent. And then the whispers started up again, just as badly as on the train. "Potter?" "THE Harry Potter?" "Do you see his scar?"

It took at least two minutes before anything happened. He saw Potter whispering something under his breath. A glance at the Professors' table showed the Headmaster leaning forward in his seat.

"Slytherin," Draco whispered to Parkinson.

"Definitely a Ravenclaw," she countered. "He defeated the Dark Lord, why would he be here?"

He had to admit she had a point. And finally…

"GRYFFINDOR!" The two Slytherins were stunned as the far table roared with applause.

Eventually, "Weasley, Ronald" became a Gryffindor, and "Zabini, Blaise," joined them at the Slytherin table. The Headmaster rose.

After Dumbledore's speech of "Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak!" the feast was served at last. It seemed that Lucius Malfoy was right about one thing: Dumbledore is a lunatic.

* * *

A student stood and came over toward the first years. "My name is Miles Bletchley. I'm Prefect for Slytherin House. Follow me." The prefect led the Slytherin first years to the dungeons. He stood in front of a large paining of Salazar Slytherin and said, "The password is Isanthus brachiatus."

The first years gasped as they entered the Common Room. On the stone walls were various paintings of various famous wizards and witches, all of whom had been in Slytherin. Draco recognized the portrait of Phineus Black, who he knew was somehow related to himself through his mother's family. On the back wall, between the tops of two staircases which he assumed led to the dormitories, was a large Slytherin crest.

The first years gathered around the fireplace, and Bletchley motioned them to sit. "While we're waiting, I'll give you all a little bit of information." He glared menacingly at them all, which immediately stopped their fidgeting. "Our head of house is Professor Snape. He is our potions master here at Hogwarts. Which is why our password is Isanthus brachiatus. This is an extremely rare form of mint, which is a potions ingredient. It is only found in the Americas. Ah, Professor Snape." Draco's godfather entered, and looked around at the assembled first years. "The first years, professor."

"Ah, yes. My thanks, Bletchley," Snape drawled. Bletchley left the group, acknowledging the thanks with only a nod of his head toward the professor. "I know a few of you, a few of you I do not at this time. I am your head of house and your potions master. My name is Severus Snape. I hope that you will find your time in Hogwarts to your liking. I will warn you, however, that you will find the other houses have a prejudice against Slytherin House. This is no fault of any of ours. It is a longstanding issue. And if you have any problems, do not be afraid to come to me with them." His dark eyes scanned the first years again, as if looking for signs of understanding. "You must stand together, for if you do not, the others will immediately take it as a sign of weakness. Try to stay together." He looked away from them for a moment, as if a thought had come to him. "These are dark times for the Noble House of Slytherin. You have been warned. Any questions?" No one said a word. "Follow me."

Snape led them to the staircases, where a girl was standing near one staircase. "This is Sarafina Vaisey. She is Prefect along with Mr. Bletchley. Ladies, Miss Vaisey will show you to your dorms. Good night. Gentlemen, if you would?"

Pansy said a brief good night to Draco, and followed Vaisey. Draco followed his Godfather toward his own dorms.

He slept like a rock that night.

* * *

Despite his Godfather's warning, the first week went well for Draco. He, Zabini, and Parkinson had become friends. Crabbe and Goyle remained close, and the two worked perfectly as his predetermined body guards.

It was Friday when he realized it. He had an infatuation with Hermione Granger.

* * *

"Ugh. Double Potions with the Gryffindors! Great way to end the week. Not." Blaise looked up upon not receiving a response from Draco. "Er, Draco. You okay, mate?"

"Hmm? Oh, Blaise. What were you saying? Sorry, spaced out a bit there."

"Never mind. Complaining about class. Double Potions, can't wait for. Taking it with the Gryffin-dorks, not so much." Those closest to them laughed, and Pansy nearly squealed with delight. Goyle guffawed stupidly; Draco wasn't sure if he had even made the connection that 'Gryffin-dorks' meant 'Gryffindor dorks,' but wasn't going to point that out.

They entered the dungeon classroom somewhat normally, with light conversation and small chuckles. This ended instantly the second Severus Snape entered the room. Draco had to admit, he was impressed. His Godfather could be quite terrifying when he tried to be. He glanced toward the Gryffindors. Potter and Weasley were exchanging amused glances, Hermio… _No_, he reminded himself. Granger was on the edge of her seat.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Draco smirked to himself. He could answer this question at eight, but Potter hadn't a clue. As Draco expected, Granger's hand was in the air.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Draco began to laugh silently, Potter still hadn't an idea. Crabbe and Goyle joined in, but it was unlikely that they had even heard of a bezoar. Granger was barely seated, her hand was so far in the air.

"What is the difference, Potter, between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?" Granger actually stood with her hand in the air at this question. As expected, Potter still hadn't any clue. Draco was struggling to keep his laughter silent.

"I don't know," Potter said softly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" Draco stopped laughing abruptly. This was the worst possible thing for Potter to say. Snape would kill him for sure.

Points were taken, but no blood was shed. _That's a plus_, Draco muttered to himself. As much as he loved his Godfather, there was no way around the simple truth that Severus Snape was not a kind man.

Class went normally after that. Snape criticized everyone, except Draco. That is, until Longbottom managed to melt a cauldron and spread a halfway-completed potion over the stone floor. Snape, of course, blamed Potter, and took more points away from the Gryffindors. At this rate, Gryffindor would have no chance whatsoever at the cup. Not that Draco minded, of course. Gryffindors are more foolish than Slytherins, after all. Wasn't that what his father told him?

But his heart told Draco another story. Granger didn't seem foolish to him.

* * *

The next morning found a large group of Slytherin upper years crowded around a copy of yesterday's Daily Prophet. Draco, Blaise, and Pansy joined them and were stunned at the headline.

_Gringotts Break-in Latest_

Pansy gasped. "I thought no one could break into Gringotts!"

"What's a matter, Parkinson, afraid your family's meager funds will be targeted? Relax, girl, I'm sure you'll be fine." The speaker was the Slytherin Quidditch captain, Marcus Flint.

"Oi, Flint, lay off the girl, would you?" Zabini's voice was cold, and Flint sneered at him.

"Mighty protective, aren't you Zabini? I thought she was Malfoy's girl."

"I'm nobody's _girl_, Flint. Watch it."

Draco scoffed at Flint, rolling his eyes in dismissal. The three were joined by Crabbe and Goyle, and Draco and Blaise led the way out of the common room and up the stairs toward the Great Hall. Their first Flying Class was that day, and all of them were excited. It was the Gryffindors, and Draco found that he was eager to show off his flying talent in front of Granger. He learned to fly at age four (on a toy broomstick, but it counted), and started Quidditch at eight years old.

It was also something he would be better at than Potter.

He heard the familiar whooshing of wings as the owl post came into the hall. A glance across the hall told Draco that Longbottom had been brought something. A quick thought later, and Draco stood with a smirk, instantly followed by Crabbe and Goyle.

"You two in?"

Pansy and Blaise shook their heads, and watched their friends head toward the Gryffindor table.

"… if it turns red – oh… you've forgotten something."

Longbottom was telling Potter, Granger, and the others what a remembrall was, and as it turned red, Draco seized his chance. He took the remembrall out of Longbottom's hand, chancing a glance toward Granger. As expected, Potter and Weasley leapt to their feet, wands out, prepared for a fight.

McGonagall, of course, wouldn't let anything like that happen.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Granger was glaring at him with distain. Draco dropped the Remembrall as though burned, suddenly feeling for the first time in his life the need to flee. "Just looking," he muttered, walking away with Crabbe and Goyle following him.

* * *

That afternoon found Draco and the rest of the Slytherins standing on the grounds, waiting for the Gryffindors and Madame Hooch. There were about twenty brooms. And old brooms, by the look of them.

The Gryffindors arrived at last; as expected, Granger was at the front of the cue. Madame Hooch arrived just seconds later.

"Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up. Stick out your right hand over your broom and say 'Up!'"

Draco's broom flew up to his hand instantly, just as he had known it would. Only his, Potter's, and Zabini's did so. Granger's broom rolled over on the ground, and Draco fought to turn his smile into a smirk.

Once everyone had managed obtaining their broomsticks from the ground, they mounted. Madame Hooch told Draco he was holding the broom wrong, much to the amusement of Potter and Weasley. He felt his face heat up slightly, and turned away from the grinning buffoons.

"On my whistle – three – two – "

Longbottom sure was a jumpy piece of work. He kicked off the ground, shooting upward. He probably reached at least twenty feet before looking down and…

With a loud thud and a CRACK, Longbottom returned to the ground. His broomstick was still rising, but Madame Hooch paid it no mind. No doubt a summoning charm could be used later. She was bending over Longbottom, muttering to herself. She helped the boy stand, and turned to the waiting class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Draco Malfoy decided to use this time to get Hermione Granger's attention. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The rest of Slytherin House joined with him.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped one of the Gryffindor girls, whose last name Draco believed to be Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom? Never thought you'd like fat little cry-babies, Parvati." Trust Pansy to come to Draco's defense.

"Look!" Draco said, snatching Longbottom's remembrall from the ground. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

A soft voice spoke up from the crowd. "Give that here, Malfoy." Draco turned and saw that the voice was Potter. He had hoped it was Granger, but you can't always get everything you want.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find – how about – up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Potter shouted.

Draco decided it was show-off time. He mounted his broom and took off. "Come and get it, Potter!"

Granger said something to Potter, and Draco got angry. The anger suddenly turned into shock when Potter joined him in midair.

"Give it here, or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh yeah?" Draco tried to smirk at Potter, but was suddenly worried. Potter was suddenly speeding toward him. He barely managed to get out of the Gryffindor's way.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Potter was attempting a smirk, but failing miserably.

Draco was pissed. How dare Potter threaten him!

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, throwing the glass ball into the air. He immediately shoved the handle of his broom downward, lowering himself to the ground. He joined the crowd watching Potter chase after the Remembrall. Draco felt bad for destroying Longbottom's new gadget, but Potter had to be put in his place.

He watched in astonishment as Potter caught the remembrall barely a foot above the ground. The boy toppled into the grass, seemingly completely unharmed.

Suddenly a stern voice yelled, "HARRY POTTER!" Draco turned and saw Professor McGonagall striding across the lawn toward the watching class. Draco smirked at Potter as McGonagall continued. "Never – in all my time at Hogwarts – how dare you – you might have broken your neck –" Her Scottish accent was coming out much stronger in her worry and anger.

Patil and Weasley tried to get Potter out of trouble, but to seemingly no avail. She took Potter up to the castle and left the remainder of the students. Madame Hooch came back five minutes later and, hearing what had happened with Potter, dismissed the class. All of the Slytherins, as well as many Gryffindors, were annoyed at this; only Draco and Potter – and Longbottom – had even flown today. What a waste.

* * *

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

Draco was determined to make Potter suffer for his classmates' annoyance today. A lot of the Slytherins, actually everyone except for Crabbe and Goyle, were angry with Draco for getting class cancelled. They were angry at Potter more than anything, but Draco was the nearer target. If not for the influence his father held, he was sure he'd have gotten a lot more than an 'accidental' aguamenti charm to the head. As it was, he was probably lucky, but Potter still would be getting the brunt of this anger – anger which would only rise even higher at Potter's reply.

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry, again attempting a smirk.

A thought popped into his head. Potter was clearly not going to be expelled, so why not give the teachers another reason for expulsion?

"I'll take you on anytime on my own. Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only – no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?" He knew Potter couldn't have possibly heard of it, but it felt good to shove his nose in just how much he didn't know that Draco did…

Until the Weasel decided to stick his face into things. "Of course he has. I'm his second, who's yours?"

Draco was livid, but kept his face under his mask of indifference. He had learned this trick from his Godfather. He looked at Goyle and Crabbe, as if to determine an answer. If he had any real intent to duel Potter, he would have chosen Zabini, or maybe someone older, but for his purpose, it didn't really matter. "Crabbe. Midnight, all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

He, Crabbe, and Goyle walked away, but Draco heard what Potter said next to Weasley. "What is a wizard's duel?" Draco smirked and kept walking. He'd heard enough to know that those two were actually going to go.

* * *

"Mr. Filch?" Draco had knocked on the door to the caretaker's office a few times, but it seemed Filch was out of the office. He tilted his head toward the dungeons, implying to Zabini that they should go, and started to walk away. He decided to go to his Uncle Sev instead, probably on his own. But before they could go far, he heard footsteps behind him. It was Filch.

"What's this? Just what do you think you're doing here, Malfoy, Zabini?"

"We just overheard some students talking, sir. And I thought it best if we told you what we had heard."

"Continue."

Zabini took up from there. "It was Potter and Weasley. They were talking about sneaking out of their dormitory tonight. They wanted to go to the trophy room when everyone was asleep."

"Did you hear what exactly their plans were?"

"No, sir," Draco continued. "They saw us and stopped talking."

"Very well."

Filch went inside his office, leaving the two Slytherins alone outside. They knew better than to say any more regarding this, so they grinned at one another and began their journey down to the dungeons.

* * *

Draco sat between Goyle and Blaise in the Great Hall. Draco had heard rumors that Harry Potter was to be the new Gryffindor seeker. This was the current topic of the table. Well, among the first years and the Quidditch players, anyway.

They were at the Halloween feast, and none of the first years were happy.

"Flint recons that Slytherin's got the cup this year, if they've got a first year seeker," Montague said with a cocky air.

Draco was annoyed. "I'm telling you, as much as I hate him, Potter was bloody brilliant on a broom!"

Terence Higgs glared at Malfoy. "And you're implying, then, that I'm going to lose to a bloody first year? No way in hell, Malfoy. Now quit your panicking, and eat your damn food. Bloody hell, you first years sure are getting ahead of yourselves."

Flint nodded. "Maybe it's time you firsties learn a rule we've long established in Slytherin House. Shut the hell up. Got it."

Draco glared at Flint, but said nothing.

Pansy sighed, reaching over to grab a pitcher of pumpkin juice. A pitcher which she dropped when they heard a BANG as Professor Quirrell barged into the Great Hall. The man ran up the aisle toward Professor Dumbledore.

"Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know."

And he fell to the floor in a faint. The first years leapt to their feet, joined in their panic by the majority of the school.

Dumbledore shot several purple firecrackers out of the end of his wand, at which everyone froze instantly.

"Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately."

Draco and the others looked to Miles Bletchley, who took control instantly. He led the first years, and the rest of the house as well, directly to their common room. Pansy was shaking in fear, staying as close to Crabbe and Goyle as she possibly could.

* * *

The next morning found Draco outside Professor Snape's office. He heard Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore inside discussing Potter, Granger, and Weasley.

"I don't understand why Granger would do something so stupid! She's top of her year!" Professor McGonagall stated, sounding upset.

"I highly doubt, Minerva, that it went as the students said. It wouldn't be the first time that a Potter tried to get rid of someone that he doesn't like, only to lose his nerve at the last moment. You remember, I hope…"

"Severus, I don't think that Mr. Potter would have set a mountain troll on Miss Granger." Dumbledore seemed to be losing his patience.

Draco gasped, leaning closer to the door. In his desperation to hear more, his cloak touched the door.

"It seems, Professors, that there is someone outside the door. If you'll excuse me." Snape opened the door a moment later and, looking down at his Godson, said "If you'll excuse me," glaring at the other teachers.

McGonagall and Dumbledore left, each with a look of "We'll continue this later" as they left.

"Draco, what gives you any right to listen outside my door?"

"I'm sorry, Uncle S… Professor. I just…"

"Are we in class, Draco? Are other students or professors in the room? It is not necessary to call me Professor."

"Thanks, Uncle Sev. I just… There were a few of us wondering how a troll could have possibly gotten into the school. Zabini thinks someone must have let it in? You think it was Potter, don't you? And that he was trying to… to kill Granger?"

"We have no idea currently how the troll got in, Draco. And I would appreciate it if you never mention what you overheard to any of your friends in Slytherin."

"Yes, sir. But… What did you mean by Potter trying to get rid of people he didn't like?"

"That is… It's none of your concern, Draco."

"Yes it is, Potter hates me! What if I'm next?"

"I wasn't referring to Potter. I was referring to… a relative of Potter's. And that is all I will say on this subject. I would highly recommend getting back to your dormitory, Draco. You don't want to be out after curfew."

"Yes, sir. Good night, Uncle Severus."

"Good night, Draco."

* * *

The Quidditch season had begun. Every morning, the Slytherin Quidditch team could be found outside in the freezing November winds, flying high above the stands playing mock-Quidditch games. The first game was that morning, and it was Slytherin verses Gryffindor. In other words, it was a perfect time to see Potter lose at Quidditch.

Draco passed the Gryffindor table, picking up conversation between Potter and Granger, in which Granger was pestering Potter to eat breakfast. Draco smirked.

Later, Draco found himself with Blaise and Pansy, followed by Crabbe and Goyle of course, climbing the stairs into the Quidditch stands.

Already the game was going in favor of Gryffindor. Until the commentator was heard saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the – wait a moment – was that the Snitch?"

The Slytherins began a chant. "Higgs for Slytherin! Higgs for Slytherin! Higgs for Slytherin!" Draco and the others joined in. Potter and Higgs were neck in neck. Flint saved the day, just before Potter grabbed the tiny golden speck, and blocked the Gryffindor, causing him to miss the Snitch. Higgs missed as well, but the game was still on.

Penalty shot to Gryffindor, of course, but what's ten points to a hundred fifty?

Higgs was good, but it seemed to Draco that Potter was better. So it was Potter that he watched. As the boy dodged a Bludger, his broom shuttered. His broom was trying to throw him off. He got steadily higher and higher, struggling to regain control on his broom. Draco tapped his Godfather, who was sitting in front of him and slightly to the left, on the shoulder, pointing up at Harry. Snape looked up and gasped, starting to mutter something that Draco couldn't hear or understand.

Suddenly, Draco and a few others were shoved aside as Granger made her way through the people. He saw Professor Quirrell slam into the seat in front of him.

Granger ducked under the seats and pulled out her wand. Draco couldn't see anything else, so turned his attention back to the game and to Potter's struggle. Suddenly, the boy was back in control of his Nimbus. He heard his Godfather yelp and start stomping out flames which suddenly were underneath him. Draco knew what Granger had done and was angry.

He would tell his Godfather later. Maybe his father was right about Gryffindors after all.

Potter won the game for Gryffindor. Draco was certain this day couldn't get any worse.

* * *

At the end of Potions the next day, Draco took his opportunity to inform Snape of what had happened.

"Class dismissed."

"Could I have a word, Professor Snape?"

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy." Everyone left, leaving Draco and his Godfather alone.

"Um… Professor… I know how the fire was started at the match yesterday." Draco was staring intently at the corner of Snape's desk.

"And how is that, Draco?"

"I saw… Well, when Potter's broom was jinxed… I guess she thought it was you… but Granger did it."

"Thank you, Draco. I will deal with Miss Granger. Thirty points from Gryffindor, and ten points to Slytherin. You may go."

"Thanks, Uncle Sev."

* * *

Draco was in the library with Pansy and Blaise a few weeks later when he finally got the opportunity he had been waiting for to apologize to Neville Longbottom over the Remembrall incident. He had heard that the ball had been broken that day; he wasn't entirely sure if it was Potter or himself who had done it. But he was certain that Potter wouldn't have taken the blame.

"Be right back," he muttered to the other two. "Longbottom," he said, walking over toward the Gryffindor. "I heard that ball your grandmother sent you was broken before."

"What's your point? Come to gloat? Get away from me, Malfoy." Longbottom was clearly terrified. The boy stood and, grabbing his belongings, left the library.

Draco followed him. "Honestly, Longbottom. Listen to me for a damn second."

Longbottom looked at him for a second and then, shaking, started walking faster.

Draco sighed. "Locomotor Moris." He approached the stricken Gryffindor. "You call yourself a Gryffindor. You're not nearly brave enough for that house. Just forget what I was going to say. Good luck undoing the curse." Draco went back into the library, leaving Longbottom to get back to Gryffindor on his own.

He sat down and told Pansy and Blaise what had happened. Zabini told him to go undo the curse, and the three went to do so, but the Gryffindor had already gone. With a sigh, they went back to their Potions essays.

* * *

The next week, Longbottom was avoiding Draco like the plague, as were most of the other Gryffindors. Draco was angry at the fact that all of a sudden Granger was best friends with Weasley and Potter. He didn't know what she could possibly see in those two idiots.

They did everything together, much like Draco, Blaise, and Pansy did. And why? They were only friends because of a stupid mountain troll.

But when he voiced this to Pansy and Blaise, the only thing they could say is, "Why do you care, Dray?"

He knew exactly why he cared, but didn't want to inform them of this reason. He had feelings for the muggleborn witch. But he couldn't tell either of his friends about this. His father would never let him hear the end of it if he found out about it. Muggles and muggleborns are filth; his father had always told him so. The very idea of bringing Hermione Granger home to meet Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy gave him a stomach ache.

No, he knew he would just have to get over it. It seemed that Pansy liked him well enough. Maybe he and she could end up together, maybe, and have a happy little pureblood family. That would make his parents proud of him. They would be delighted. And it's not like he didn't _like_ Pansy. They were friends. But she was more of a sister to him than a love interest. But who marries for love nowadays anyway? Purebloods marry for status, power, and money. Why should he, Draco Malfoy, be any different?

* * *

At breakfast a few weeks later, an argument seemed to be breaking out between the 'Golden Trio,' as the Slytherins liked to call Granger, Potter, and Weasley. Draco drew closer to eavesdrop and heard something which stunned him.

"Oh, come on, Hermione! Lighten up! It's only Herbology! We can skip it, just this once!" Weasley was pleading.

"Absolutely not, Ronald. We can't just skip because we feel like it." _One point to Granger_ Malfoy thought to himself.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?" Weasley pleaded further.

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing –"

"Shut up!" Potter muttered to them, having caught Draco's eye.

Draco walked away, catching up to Zabini, and they went together to Transfiguration. He would go spy on Hagrid and the trio during the morning break.

* * *

After class, Draco half ran down out to the grounds. As he drew closer to Hagrid's hut, he slowed his pace, going as slowly as possible. He dropped down behind the window, listening in to the conversation inside.

"Isn't he _beautiful_!" Hagrid said, and Draco rolled his eyes. The gamekeeper _would_ call a dangerous monster beautiful. "Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!"

Draco stood, peering in through the window. Granger was talking now.

"Hagrid, how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Malfoy watched as Hagrid opened his mouth to answer, before all the color drained from the man's face. Draco's silver eyes met Hagrid's black ones, and Draco smirked and ran off.

Every time Draco saw the trio, he smirked at them. And he could tell that, every single time, they were terrified.

* * *

"Weasley is in the hospital wing. I'm going to harass him. See you guys later," Draco said to his friends. It was a week after he had seen the Dragon from Hagrid's side window. What better time to harass the trio than now?

He reached the hospital wing, and then realized that he had no reason to be visiting Ron Weasley. Madame Pomfrey would throw him out immediately.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you injured?"

The nurse's voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"No, ma'am. I have to borrow a book from Ronald Weasley. Someone told me I'd find him here?"

"Yes, he is here. Now don't bother him too much, Mr. Malfoy. The dog bite is quite infected, and is rather painful for him."

"Of course, ma'am."

Draco made his way over toward the one occupied bed in the place. His smirk firmly in place, he stood beside Weasley.

"So, you've told her it's a dog bite. How typical."

"Oh, piss off, Malfoy."

"Now is that any way to treat someone who just happens to be keeping a rather large secret for a certain friend of yours?"

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I'd like to make sure you get the best care you can! And it's no good lying to a mediwitch, is it? Not if you want her to heal you."

"And what exactly does that have to do with you, Malfoy?"

"Well, I could tell her, you know. Tell her what you were really bitten by. And then the dragon's gone, and so is Hagrid. And your hand's healed."

"Piss off."

"Could I possibly borrow your… charms book?" The book was lying on the bedside table beside Weasley, and Madame Pomfrey was coming over to change the bandages. This visit would have to be cut short.

"Yes, as long as it gets you to go away," Weasley said, his ears turning red.

* * *

Draco took the charms book to the library to go through. _Why not?_ he asked himself. He had the book. Weasley gave it to him. Why not search it for funny little details of Granger's life. Maybe there was parchment inside to give him clues, or maybe Weasley was one to write in books.

He flipped through the pages, occasionally stopping to look at some random thing written in the margins. The writing wasn't messy enough to be Weasley's… must be a second hand book. _No surprise there_ he reminded himself.

There was a folded up parchment about half way through the book. He pulled it out and read.

_Dear Ron,_

_How are you? Thanks for the letter – I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon. _

_Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark._

_Send me an answer as soon as possible._

_Love, _

_Charlie_

Draco smirked. This day couldn't have gotten any better.

* * *

That Saturday night, Draco snuck out of the Slytherin dormitory. He normally stayed in at curfew; he didn't want his Godfather to say anything negative about his activities to his father, after all.

But that time, he had no choice. He had to get the trio caught. And preferably, he wanted them caught _with_ the dragon.

He made his way silently toward the Astronomy tower. That was the tallest one. And he waited.

Thinking back on his actions, it was rather stupid to just stand at the foot of the stairs waiting for the trio. But this didn't even cross his mind until…

"Mr. Malfoy!" His heart sank. Professor McGonagall had caught him. She was wearing a tartan bathrobe, her hair in a grey hairnet. She took him by the ear. "Detention! And twenty points from Slytherin!" Draco flinched. "Wandering around in the middle of the night, how _dare_ you –"

"You don't understand, Professor! Harry Potter's coming – he's got a dragon!"

Her face tightened. "What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on – I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

Draco tensed. If Snape found out, so would his father. He was doomed.

* * *

He received the letter the next morning at breakfast.

_Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr. Flich in the entrance hall. _

_Professor M. McGonagall_

He met Mr. Filch at ten fifty-five that night. This is when he found out that Granger, Potter, and Longbottom were also caught last night.

They followed Filch out onto the grounds. He was delighted at the thought of their punishments.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh? Oh yes… hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me…. It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out… hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed…. Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

There was a voice in the distance. "Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started." Draco was much calmer now. Hagrid may be stupid, but he isn't cruel.

Their relief must have shown, as Filch said nastily, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy – it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

Draco heard one of the others moan and he stopped dead. "The forest? We can't go in there at night – there's all sorts of things in there – werewolves I heard."

Hagrid met up with them and, after a brief argument, Filch left them.

"I'm not going in that forest." Draco was mortified to hear the sheer terror coming out in his own voice.

After another argument, the five of them went to the edge of the forest. Hagrid pointed out a silvery substance which Draco recognized as unicorn blood. He said there was a unicorn badly hurt in the forest, and that they would be looking for it.

Draco claimed Fang, and he and Longbottom were sent together one way, and Granger, Potter, and Hagrid went the other. They followed the path in silence.

There was more and more blood, and it was getting thicker and thicker. But Draco was getting quite bored, and he knew that Longbottom was quite possibly as terrified as he was. He decided to get a change in partners, if that was possible, and stepped off of the path. He looped around in front of Longbottom. He jumped out and Longbottom screamed, shooting red sparks in the air. Malfoy laughed, and the Gryffindor scowled at him, and they heard Hagrid crashing through the underbrush toward them.

Malfoy had never seen anyone as angry as Hagrid was.

He led them back toward the others, and Draco got his wish. He swapped partners. Only he was put with Potter instead of Granger.

Draco and Potter went with fang, following a path which was getting harder to follow. The blood on the forest floor was getting thicker and thicker as they went along.

Potter flung his arm out in front of Draco, and the two stopped. "Look," Potter whispered.

They had found the unicorn, and it was dead. A cloaked figure was standing over the unicorn. It bent down over the pure white figure. And it began to drink the blood of the unicorn.

Draco screamed and ran with fang away, toward where he knew Hagrid was supposed to be. He found the others and, still shaking, told Hagrid what he had seen. They ran, following the path which Draco had taken back to them.

Potter was on the back of a centaur when they found him. Granger ran ahead, asking if Potter was alright.

He had a lot to tell Blaise and Pansy about.

* * *

A few months later, and school was almost at a close. The points were in, and the Great Hall was decorated in Slytherin green and silver. Draco was delighted, as were the rest of the Slytherins.

Before the feast started, Dumbledore stood at the front of the Hall.

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six, and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

There were screams from the Slytherin table. The Hufflepuffs were clapping politely, but no one else bothered.

And then Dumbledore continued. "Yes, yes well done, Slytherin. However, recent events must be taken into account."Draco's smile slipped a little.

"Ahem, I have a few last minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes… First – to Mr. Ronald Weasley for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House fifty points." There were cheers from Gryffindor, but several of the Slytherins looked at one another in confusion.

"Second – to Miss Hermione Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House fifty points." This one Draco understood. She had gotten through his Godfather's potions test to get to the sorcerer's stone.

"Third – to Mr. Harry Potter for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House sixty points." Draco did quick math. Gryffindor was tied with Slytherin. There was screaming from every house except Slytherin.

Dumbledore raised his hand, and the room silenced.

"There are all kinds of courage. It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Draco swore later that there had been an explosion. Every single Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff was screaming and clapping. Only Slytherin remained silent.

"Which means, we need a little change of decoration." The Slytherin green and silver became Gryffindor red and gold. The serpents were replaced by lions. Snape was shaking hands with McGonagall, and only Draco could see the smoldering fire in his Godfather's dark eyes.

* * *

"Well, Father is going to kill me. I'm second in our year. And, get this. I'm second to Granger." Draco was looking over his scores with Blaise and Pansy and the others on the way to King's Cross Station.

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Draco," Millicent Bulstrode spoke up. "She's a suck-up. The teachers loved her. Not your fault."

"She's right, Dray. Relax. It'll be fine," Pansy said to him.

"Tell that to my father."

"We will, Draco, now shut up and pass me a pumpkin pasty."

"Always worried about your stomach, Blaise," Draco laughed and threw a pumpkin pasty at his friend.

* * *

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were waiting at the station. Upon seeing Draco and his friends headed their way, Narcissa smiled, and Lucius glared. He was visibly angry.

"Draco, darling, I've missed you so much! How was it! Tell me everything, dear." Narcissa was beside herself.

"Not now, Narcissa. This can wait until we get home. Draco, where is Mr. Potter?" Zabini and Parkinson looked surprised at the question.

"He… he refused to…" Draco swallowed at the anger on his father's face. "Please forgive me, father."

"One simple task, Draco. Was it really too much to ask? Never mind. Come along," and with a wave of his wand, Draco's trunk was floating along in front of the family.

"I'll see you all soon," Draco muttered to his friends. They looked sympathetic. He turned and followed his parents toward the fireplace. They always took the floo home from King's Cross.

He gulped as he took the floo powder. "Malfoy Manor," he said, throwing the powder into the fire. He stepped through and was whisked away.

His heart was in his stomach. His father was extremely angry. This could not bode well for Draco.

* * *

_**Poor Draco. This can't be a good sign for the start of summer. Hope everything goes well for him. Book two up soon. If anyone has any requests for scenes they want used, Books two on of course, please let me know.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter and his friends. His enemies either, come to think of it. I wish.**_

_**I will try to stick to canon events when I can, but some things will be changed to fit my purposes. Enjoy.**_

_**

* * *

**_

"I am extremely ashamed of you, Draco."

Narcissa had left Lucius and Draco to talk, but the boy knew his mother was lurking nearby listening to their every word.

"How hard could it have been? You are a Malfoy, and you fail, landing Potter into befriending a Weasley? They are beneath us, Draco, you know this! Explain!"

"I… I'm sorry, father." Draco gulped. "He… I told him that my family was much better than Weasley's. But he didn't listen. I failed you. I'm sorry." He could see his father growing angrier by the instant.

"You… you told him that you're better than the Weasleys? Do you know nothing, Draco? Have I taught you nothing? You do not use your influence so early in the game! Not with a muggle-raised boy at the very least!"

"I'm sorry, father."

"Get out of my sight, you imbecile!"

Draco left the entry hall, headed straight to his bedroom. He refused to break in front of his father. Or anyone else, for that matter. He hated the disappointment in his father's grey eyes.

* * *

Draco was on his way to the Malfoy library to work on his Potions essays when he heard it.

His father was in a meeting of sorts. Draco recognized the voices of Amycus Carrow, Marcello Gibbon, Walden McNair, Adrian Pucey, and Thorfinn Rowle. They hadn't bothered with silencing charms, because Narcissa and Draco both knew better than to interfere when this group met. This was a group of the old supporters of the Dark Lord. These were some of the most trusted Death Eaters.

Lucius was talking. "The Dark Lord implied that this could bring about its reopening." There were gasps all around at the news. "I had planned for my son to be the one, but this will be impossible. He has failed to obtain the friendship of Potter, which was to be his test."

McNair spoke up. "What about some other? Pucey, Crabbe, and Goyle both have sons in Hogwarts as well."

"Imbeciles, all of them. That's why." Rowle was speaking now.

Carrow spoke up. "Would the person have to know what the Diary was for to use it?"

"No, Amycus, or it would have been destroyed long ago." Lucius' voice was cold, and Draco shivered at the sound.

"Then what about this. Slip the book to one of the blood-traitors. No, hear me out." Draco could feel the incredulous looks that everyone was giving Gibbon. "They don't know what it is. None of our children will be suspected of anything. No one knows a thing. Mudbloods get purged from the halls of Hogwarts. Job complete."

"Not quite as absurd as I was expecting, Gibbon."

"Surely you are not considering placing something which the Dark Lord bestowed onto you with honor in the hands of a blood traitor, Lucius?"

"My lord wanted it reopened, Pucey. And I intend to follow through with his request."

"He's dead, Lucius." Rowle's voice was soft.

There was silence, and then…

"Crucio!"

The hall was filled with Rowle's screams as the cruciatus curse was held on the man. Draco fled.

* * *

"Dobby!"

Draco had to do something. He couldn't just sit back and allow his father to murder all the non-purebloods of Hogwarts. That was most people outside of Slytherin House. Even a few of the Slytherins' blood was not as pure as they claimed.

"Y-yes, Master Malfoy?" The house elf was shaking.

"I need a favor. One of which you will never mention to mother or father."

"Anything, M-Master Malfoy."

"If mother and father hear of this, you will punish yourself, is that clear?"

"Yes, Master Malfoy."

"You are to go to the home of Harry Potter. You are to warn him of a danger in Hogwarts this year and to tell him that he should not return this year. He may inform his friends if he wishes, but you are to act as if you should not be telling him anything. Is that understood?"

"Y-Yes, Master Malfoy."

"Go. Now."

And with a loud POP, Dobby was gone.

Draco prayed to Merlin that Potter would tell Granger of the danger.

* * *

POP!

"Dobby? What is it? Speak!"

"M-M-Master M-Mal-Malfoy?"

"You informed Potter?"

"Y-Yes, Mast-"

"And he will not be attending Hogwarts this year."

"D-Dobby d-did what M-Master asked D-Dobby. B-B-But Harry P-Potter sir said that Harry P-Potter would st-still go to school. Dobby is sorry, Master Malfoy. Dobby is a bad elf, Master. Dobby will go punish himself."

Dobby began slamming his hand repeatedly in Draco's closet door.

"Dobby! Stop this instant! Get out of my sight!"

The elf left with a POP, and Draco threw himself on his bed. He had failed Hogwarts.

* * *

Lucius took Draco to Diagon Alley that year for his school supplies. Before that, however, he had a stop to make in Knockturn Alley.

"And you are not to touch anything, Draco, am I understood?"

"Yes, Father."

The entered Borgin and Burkes, and Draco began looking around. "Can I have _that_?" Draco said, interrupting the conversation between Borgin and his father. He was pointing to a withered hand on a cushion.

"Ah, the Hand of Glory! Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir!"

"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin." Borgin began stuttering apologies which Draco could see through easily. "Though if his grades don't pick up, that may indeed be all that he is fit for –"

"It's not my fault. The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger –" He knew he would have to insult the muggleborn to appease his father.

"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam."

Draco remained silent. He knew blood didn't mean everything, though his father still believed it to be the most important thing in the world.

He read a card on a necklace of opals. _Caution. Do not touch. Cursed – has claimed the lives of nineteen muggle owners to date._ He hastily turned his cringe into a smirk.

There was a fantastic cabinet to his left. He reached for the handle, when –

"Done. Come, Draco."

Draco followed his father out of the shop and into Diagon Alley.

An hour later, Draco found himself pressed into an extremely crowded Flourish and Blotts waiting for his father to return from Quality Quidditch Supplies. He had claimed he had business, and Draco knew better than to ask questions. He could see Potter and Granger standing with the Weasleys near the front of the crowd. And Gilderoy Lockhart was standing at the front of the crowd amid stacks of his own books.

Lockhart shouted, "It can't be Harry Potter!" and yanked the boy to the front. If Draco didn't know better, he would have thought that Potter didn't want to be seen, from the way he looked around frantically as the man took his arm. "Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!" Draco groaned.

"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography… He had _no idea_ that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book… He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Draco had found himself pushed closer and closer to the front. He saw his father a slight ways away from him and decided to make him proud to make up for his previous mistakes. Maybe he could still fix whatever his father was planning at Hogwarts this year.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter? _Famous_ Harry Potter, can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

The youngest Weasley retorted first. "Leave him alone, he didn't want all that."

"Potter, you've got yourself a _girlfriend_!" The girl blushed scarlet. _Not too off-the-mark then_, he thought to himself. The rest of the Weasleys joined the group, trading insults as usual.

And then Lucius and the Weasleys' father joined them.

Lucius grabbed a book out of the youngest Weasley's cauldron; it was her transfiguration book.

"Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Arthur Weasley flushed darker than any of the others had, and said, "We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy."

Lucius' eyes scanned the Weasleys and his eyes fell on Granger and her family. "The company you keep, Weasley… and I thought your family could sink no lower."

Draco didn't quite see who had started it, but suddenly there were fists flying as Weasley Sr., and Lucius Malfoy fought. One of the twins was egging his father on, but the mother was yelling for her husband to stop.

Hagrid ended the fight at last by grabbing each of them by the neck of their jackets and yanking them apart.

Lucius had a blackened eye, and Weasley's lip was split.

Lucius yanked himself out of the huge man's grasp, throwing the transfiguration book back into the cauldron, saying "Here, girl – take your book – it's the best your father can give you – "

Draco saw that there was a second book, a thin black book, thrust into the cauldron with the transfiguration text. It seemed Draco knew at last what had been being discussed at the Death Eater meeting in his father's library. And it was just put into motion.

* * *

"Draco, this year, I will not have you making unnecessary risks."

"Yes, father."

"Do I make myself clear?"

Draco nodded solemnly, saying, "Yes, father."

"We do not know what all is happening this year, only know that things will be happening. And I do not want you involved. Is that understood?"

"Yes, father."

* * *

As last year, Draco met up with Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, and Pansy on the platform. Goyle hauled his trunk onto the train and into the pre-claimed compartment. They were joined a bit later by Tomas Montague, Adrian Pucey, and Albert Rowle. Pucey looked accomplished and Rowle looked depressed. It seemed that Lucius had held the cruciatus on Thorfinn Rowle longer than was necessary. As usual. Draco sighed.

* * *

Half way toward Hogwarts, the compartment door opened. Hermione Granger stood in the doorway.

"Out, mudblood."

The girl looked confused again, just as she had precisely one year before.

Draco stood up. "Out, Granger." He followed the girl out into the compartment, sending a wink at Montague and Pucey.

"What? You should know better than to bother us, Granger, so what do you want?"

"Well, Malfoy, Harry and Ron are missing and… I've looked everywhere else, and I just wanted to make sure that they…"

"Merlin, Granger. And you think we _care_ if Potter and the Weasel are missing?"

Granger looked affronted. Draco _was_ worried, but it's not like he could actually tell the girl that. He had sent his house elf to the boy, after all. However, that was to prevent Granger from going back. Not Potter and definitely not Weasley. Weasley was a pureblood, and Potter's father was as well. They had come onto magic through blood. Granger was who he was worried about.

"Well, I've only been looking everywhere, Malfoy, it's not like I'm blaming you or asking for you to find them or…"

"Good bye." Draco turned back into the compartment, leaving an affronted Hermione Granger in the hallway, staring after him.

It was only just as they were pulling into the Hogsmeade station that he realized that neither of them had traded the normal insults. It was with a smile on his face that he got off of the train.

* * *

The next morning, Draco finally caught a glimpse of Potter and Weasley. And Weasley had a howler from his mother. The Slytherins all got a huge laugh out of the words.

"-STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSED YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE – LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD HAVE BOTH DIED – ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED – YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, ITS ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

Weasley had slid so far down in his chair that his fiery hair could be only barely seen above the table. The entire hall filled with laughter, and Draco said to the others "'One toe out of line…' We have to remind him of this all year."

Pansy and Blaise laughed lightly, and Crabbe and Goyle joined in. Again, Draco didn't think they understood, but they would catch on eventually. They always did exactly as Draco asked.

* * *

"Maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"

Some Gryffindor first year was talking to Potter. Draco called over, "_Signed photos? _You're giving out _signed photos,_ Potter? Everyone line up! Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!" Draco was disgusted with the boy. At least Lockhart had talent. Moderate talent, but talent. Potter was just a kid with a scar.

"No, I'm not. Shut up, Malfoy."

"You're just jealous," the first year said angrily.

"_Jealous_?" Draco asked. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself." Crabbe and Goyle were guffawing by now.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," Weasley yelled. Crabbe started rubbing his knuckles, attempting to look menacing. Draco would have laughed, but it was clear that Weasley and Potter were intimidated.

"Careful, Weasley. You don't want to start any trouble our your Mommy'll have to come and take you away from school." His voice became high pitched. "_If you put another toe out of line…_" The nearby Slytherins all laughed. "Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter. It'd be worth more than his family's whole house."

Weasley pulled his wand, but Lockhart showed up with a foul smile and condescending, "What's all this, what's all this? Who's giving out signed photos?" He caught sight of Potter. "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry!"

Potter turned bright red and attempted to deny everything. Draco walked off, Crabbe and Goyle following him.

* * *

The next morning, Draco was rudely awakened by Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch captain.

"Whassamater?" Draco muttered, too tired to be angry.

Flint rolled his eyes. "Quidditch practice."

"I'm not on the team, Flint."

"You are now! Those Nimbus 2001s are brilliant! I have to thank your father when I see him next. I sent an owl, but that is definitely not enough."

"Nimbus 2001s?" Draco asked, feeling stupid.

"Come on, Malfoy. You're our new seeker. Get to the changing rooms in fifteen minutes. We've booked the pitch."

Draco followed Flint out of the dorms and entered the bathroom for a quick shower.

How he didn't know that his father had purchased seven new broomsticks of the best quality, he had no idea.

* * *

"But I booked the field!" The Gryffindor captain was screaming. "I booked it!"

"Ah, but I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'"

"You've got a new Seeker? Where?"

Draco stepped out from behind Montague.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" one of the Weasley twins asked, a look of disgust on his face.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father. Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team." The seven members on the team held out their broomsticks. "Oh, look, a field invasion."

Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were crossing the grass.

"What's happening? Why aren't you playing? And what's _he _doing here?"

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley. Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team." Weasley gaped. "Good, aren't they? But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to _buy_ their way in. _They _got in on pure talent." Granger cut into the conversation angrily, clearly defending Weasley.

Draco's face fell. Now he had to attack her as well. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood."

He regretted it instantly when Weasley screamed "_You'll pay for that one, Malfoy_!" and Spinnet yelled, "_How dare you_!" as Weasley's wand was in his face despite Flint's attempt at protecting the newest member of the Quidditch team.

Draco flinched at the loud bang erupting out of Weasley's wand, but the blast of green light flew out the wrong end of the Gryffindor's wand and hit him in the stomach.

"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" Granger shrieked.

But Weasley didn't answer. There was a belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth. The entire team was paralyzed with laughter.

Potter and Granger took him to Hagrid's hut, which was closest to the Quidditch pitch.

The remaining team members glared for a full five minutes at one another, but eventually the Gryffindors left. It was useless to practice without their Seeker, and they knew it.

* * *

Draco woke up unable to believe it had already been two months. Already, Halloween had come. The Slytherins waited in anticipation – the Hogwarts Halloween feast was always wonderful.

And sure enough, when they arrived in the great hall that night, the hall was truly spectacular.

There were several live bats fluttering around over their heads. Bright orange and black candles hovered over each table, the wax dripping slowly down and, instead of falling onto the floor, tables, or students, it stopped in midair to seemingly be creating new candles. This was a magic that Draco had never before seen.

It was after the feast that everyone was pulled into shock.

Draco and his friends led the way out of the Great Hall. He, Crabbe, and Goyle managed to keep to the front of the crowd, but Blaise and Pansy were pulled into the tide of students leaving the hall. They had planned to meet in the library instead of their common room.

But soon after leaving the Great Hall, the three came across a truly terrible sight. And, as usual, it was Granger, Potter, and Weasley at the center of it.

On the wall near a girls' toilet was the words, "THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE." It was written in red ink, but peering closer told Draco it was written in blood.

"Enemies of the heir, beware! You'll be next Mudbloods!" Draco shouted, glaring at the trio. The sight behind the three caught his gaze, and he grinned, seeing that Mr. Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, had been killed and was hanging by her tail by the torch bracket. He seemed cocky to anyone watching him, but those closest to him could see the terror in his grey eyes. Not to mention, instead of the expected anger, Granger was looking at him oddly.

"What's going on here? What's going on?" Filch looked around at the group. He froze upon catching sight of the wall. "My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris? _You!_" he screamed, advancing on Potter. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll…"

"_Argus!_" Trust Dumbledore to show up just as things were getting interesting. He looked carefully at the wall and detached the cat from the wall, holding her carefully. "Come with me, Argus. You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."

Lockhart, who Draco hadn't noticed until that moment, stepped forward, just as Blaise and Pansy caught up to the others.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster – just upstairs – please feel free – "

"Thank you, Gilderoy," Dumbledore said to the man. Draco tapped his two friends on the shoulder as the trio left with Dumbledore, Filch, Lockhart, Snape, and McGonagall. He gestured for them to follow, and the four followed Draco to Lockhart's office.

When they got outside the Defense teacher's office door, the hall was deserted. They could hear Lockhart's babbling about himself from inside, accompanied by sobs from the caretaker.

And then Dumbledore's voice was heard. "She's not dead, Argus." Draco looked questioningly at Blaise, who shrugged and leaned closer to the door.

Lockhart broke off at once.

"Not dead," Filch's voice was hoarse from the sobbing. "But why's she all – all stuff and frozen?" Draco, Blaise, and Pansy leaned closer. Crabbe and Goyle were watching for other students, and couldn't care less as to what was happening.

"She has been petrified. But how, I cannot say…" The Slytherins exchanged looks at this.

"Ask him!" Filch screamed. Draco rolled his eyes.

"No second year could have done this. It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced –"

"He did it, he did it!" Blaise was shaking his head now. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found – in my office – he knows I'm a – I'm a – he knows I'm a Squib!"

The three looked at one another in shock. Pansy was shaking with silent laughter, and the boys were laughing just as silently, though still able to listen.

"I never _touched_ Mrs. Norris!" Potter said loudly. "And I don't even know what a Squib _is!_"

Pansy's laughter grew.

"Rubbish! He saw my Kwikspell letter!"

Blaise's laughter, which had subsided, resumed tenfold at this.

"If I might speak, Headmaster." It was Professor Snape speaking now. "Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time." Draco could _hear_ the smirk in his godfather's voice. "But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"

The trio dissolved into explanation, of which Draco caught the words, "Ghosts," and "Deathday party." The others shrugged, and they just listened further.

"And why not join the feast afterward? Why go up to that corridor?" Snape sounded nearly gleeful at this situation. Potter would easily be expelled for this.

"Because – because – because we were tired and wanted to go to bed."

"Potter should be punished if for nothing other than bad lying," Draco muttered to the others with a smirk.

"Without any supper? I didn't think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties."

"We weren't hungry," Weasley said.

"I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful. It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest." Draco smirked.

"Really, Severus," Professor McGonagall said shrilly. "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. The cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong."

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," Dumbledore said softly.

"My cat has been petrified!" Filch screamed. "I want to see some _punishment!_"

"We will be able to cure her, Argus. Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes."

"That she made us deal with," Pansy muttered.

"As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."

"I'll make it," Lockhart said. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep –"

"Your godfather isn't going to like that, Dray," Blaise whispered.

And sure enough, they heard Snape say coolly, "Excuse me, but I believe I am the Potions master at this school."

There was silence. And then, "You may go." They heard footsteps, and took off running toward the staircase. They were half down the stair before the door opened to Lockhart's office.

* * *

Snape had definitely been attempting to get Potter for this one. And it was obvious that Potter was an idiot and could never manage to petrify a cat.

"Uncle Sev really has it in for Potter, doesn't he," Draco said softly to Blaise. "There's no way Potter could've managed that one. He couldn't do a dark spell if it would save his life."

They were sitting in their dormitory, which Pansy had joined them in, discussing the situation.

"Yeah, I really think there's something behind Snape's complete hatred of Potter. I mean, he's an imbecile, we can all see that, but he hadn't even spoken to the bloke that first potions class. And he immediately made a fool out of him. I couldn't have answered any of that. Okay, the bezoar thing, yes, but not the rest."

"Blaise Zabini admits to not knowing everything. You never cease to surprise, my friend. Would you care to join me in a visit to our head of house tomorrow?"

"Absolutely not, Dray. You have a death wish all of a sudden, go ahead. Count me out this time."

"Pansy?"

"No, Draco. Some things are better left alone. And if it has to do with questioning your godfather's treatment of Harry Potter, than it is definitely in the 'leave it alone' category."

"You both should be Hufflepuffs. Fine, I'll go alone. Crabbe, Goyle, you're coming with me. Not going in, just come with me. Okay?"

"Sure, Malfoy." Goyle looked indifferent.

"Yeah, Draco. No problem." Crabbe looked hesitant for a second, but Draco was certain that this was just his imagination.

* * *

"Uncle Severus? Could I ask you something personal?" Draco had joined his godfather for tea, and was just now getting around to his reason for coming in the first place.

"That would depend on the question, Draco."

"Why do you – I mean, not that I disagree at all – it's just that – well I feel the same way, but…"

"Mr. Malfoy, do get on with your question."

"I'm sorry. It's just that – I mean – Potter. You seem to hate him more than the rest of us do."

"That is a statement, Draco, not a question."

"Why?"

"Because it is a fact, not a question. There was no interrogative word within the sentence."

Draco looked at his godfather in disbelief. "You know what I mean, Uncle Sev."

"Indeed?" And there was that damned eyebrow raise that one always received during a conversation with Severus Snape.

"Why do you hate Potter so much?" Snape was silent for a moment, so Draco continued. "I get it, he's a… well, he's a bit of an idiot. But – well, even Zabini couldn't have answered those questions you asked him first year. And Crabbe and Goyle couldn't even answer them now. It all seemed kind of – well, kind of personal."

"I do not see that Harry Potter is worth the special treatment he receives, and will continue to receive, because of the deaths of his parents. And I will not tolerate stupidity. I would have thought you would have known this about me by now, Draco."

"Yes, sir. I know that. It's just that – never mind. Forget I asked, Uncle."

"It's about time for you to get back to your Common Room, Draco."

"Just one other thing, Uncle? If I may?"

"Only one more thing, Draco."

"What is the Chamber of Secrets, and who is the heir referring to?"

Snape paused. "It is best if you do not know too much, Draco. Do not meddle in things that do not concern you. Do not take unnecessary risks."

Draco frowned. Those were the same words that his father had given him before leaving for King's Cross earlier that year.

"No doubt, you will go around asking others if I do not tell you. Therefore, I will tell you that the Heir refers to the Heir of Slytherin. It is believed that Salazar Slytherin had, before leaving the school, built a secret chamber. This chamber, the Chamber of Secrets, could only be opened by the true Heir of Slytherin. This is purely fictional, however. It holds no basis in reality. But it is said that within the chamber resides a beast which only the Heir can control. The beast is meant to purge the halls of Hogwarts of those – those undeserving of learning magic."

"The Mudbloods."

Snape's head snapped up. "Do not use that word!" He paused. "Not while the Heir of Slytherin is believed to be wandering the halls. People may call you the Heir. Be careful, Draco."

"Yes, sir."

"Return to your dormitory, Draco. And stay out of things which do not concern you. Be careful. Stay with Crabbe and Goyle. As a pureblood, you can be certain that, even if this is not fictional, you and your friends will be safe."

"Good night, Uncle Severus."

"Good night, Draco."

* * *

"The question now is, who the hell is the Heir of Slytherin?" Blaise asked the group.

All of the second years were all in the boys' dormitory discussing the Chamber of Secrets.

"And people think its Potter. He's definitely a Gryffindor straight through. These people are all so stupid."

"I'd love to find out who it is. Maybe we could help out some," Theo Nott sounded hopeful at the idea.

"They'd have to come forward though, wouldn't they? And they petrified the cat already, so they can't tell everyone who they are. They'd be expelled immediately!" Draco said.

"But didn't Snape say it wasn't even real?" Crabbe asked, and all eyes turned to him. "What?"

"Of course it's real, you idiot!" Draco shouted. "The cat was definitely petrified. And they can't get rid of those words on the wall. That's got to be a strong spell. Even Dumbledore can't get rid of it."

"But if Snape said it's not real…" Blaise started, but Draco cut him off.

"Okay, I love my godfather and everything, but if there ever was someone else as cynical as Severus Snape, I've never heard of him. He's the most suspicious person on the face of the earth. The chamber could be behind a portrait of a million naked witches all forming the words 'Chamber of Secrets,' and he'd call it a trick of some sort. He still wouldn't believe it was the chamber. We should ask someone else."

"Like who, Draco? We're Slytherins! We're already suspected!" Nott said exasperatedly.

"Theo's right. We can't ask anyone else. Except maybe – but none of us really know her – but she was a Slytherin…"

"Who, Dray?" Pansy asked.

"Professor Sinistra. The Astronomy professor. She was in Slytherin."

"Two things to guess, though. Would she even know anything, and would she tell a bunch of second years?"

Nott looked around the group. "My father knows her. Yours does too, Draco. And you, Pansy. We can ask her. She'll tell us anything. It should definitely be us."

Draco made the connection. The children of the 'old crowd,' as his father called them. Of course Sinistra would know them all. They left immediately to talk to the witch.

* * *

"Can't believe she wouldn't tell us _anything!_ You're a bloody _Malfoy!_" Nott was stunned. The Malfoy and Nott names were quite well known, and the Parkinson name was just about as well known as Malfoy. All three names could always, except for now, get whatever they want.

"But I guess, it does make sense," Blaise said softly. "They don't want us to know more than everyone else. So, that we won't be held as suspects. Not that they know much more, however. I'll write to mother and father and see what they know. They'll tell me anything."

"Blaise, one problem: your parents were Ravenclaws. Who's to say they'll even know anything?"

"Exactly, Draco. Exactly. I'm not _expected_ to know anything about it. I'm the first Slytherin in three generations. All Ravenclaws before me. And before that, a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin. And before that…"

"Okay, Zabini, shut it. We get it. You're the least suspected. Got it loud and clear. But the rest of us, our grandparents or great-grandparents could have been _there_ with the Heir the last time the Chamber was opened. Your grandparents could have been there, but they wouldn't have been trusted with the identity of the Heir. You see where I'm going with this," Theo asked. "Our grandparents could have _known_ the Heir! So of course, they don't want us to know, but _they do_!"

* * *

The next few weeks were surrounded by speculation. Blaise received a letter from his parents telling him to "leave everything alone" and never to "wander the halls needlessly," but they got very few answers from the letter. Only what had already been told: someone died fifty years ago during the opening of the Chamber. The only new fact they were told was that someone had been expelled, and the attacks had stopped. But they wouldn't say anything further, which annoyed the second years to no end.

But the Chamber and Heir was driven from their minds with the upcoming Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Draco and the rest of the team was out on the field nearly three times a week, and the others were constantly in the library working on homework.

When the day of the match finally arrived, Draco felt sick. He did fine in practices, naturally – he was a Malfoy after all – but he knew that Potter could fly. He'd been on the Quidditch team for a year now. But as he pulled on his emerald robes, he couldn't help feeling sick.

And Flint's speech didn't help matters.

"We have better brooms than those idiots out there. Pucey, Montague, we can get the Quaffle past Wood any day of the week. A bit of rain won't matter. Bole, Derrick, keep a watch on those twins. They're good, but we're better. Bletchley, you've got this. You barely missed anything in practices, and you'd better do just as well now. And Malfoy, do I really have to say anything? Potter is nothing. You will win this for us." The missing 'or else' was definitely evident in his speech.

* * *

"The Slytherin team," the commentator shouted. "Bletchley, Bole, Derrick, Flint, Malfoy, Montague, a-a-and Pucey!" They took off. "And Gryffindor!" The blatant favoritism was evident in the change of Jordan's voice. "Bell, Johnson, Potter, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley, a-a-and Wood! Never a team better in the history of Hogwarts!"

"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall shouted.

"Sorry, Professor," Jordan muttered and started commentating again. "Johnson takes the Quaffle. Bludger hit by Adrian Derrick and the Quaffle is taken by Flint. Captain Marcus Flint headed for the goals. Excellent hit by Weasley, but Flint dodges and…" Jordan groaned. "And it's ten-zero for Slytherin."

The game continued in this way until, with the rain increasing constantly, Draco could barely hear the commentator except when he was nearby. "Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero."

But something odd was happening. It seemed that there was only one bludger in play. The other seemed to be stalking Potter. Every time the Gryffindor moved, the bludger was there to counteract his move. One of the Weasleys signaled a time out, and the Slytherins huddled under a giant umbrella.

"We got this game in the bag," Flint said, a smirk on his face. "Malfoy, it's all down to you now. Get to the snitch as fast as you can. I hate playing in the rain."

Draco nodded once, and hearing the whistle, they took off again.

"Training for the ballet, Potter?" Draco yelled at the Gryffindor, who had to do an awkward spin in order to avoid the rogue bludger. Draco was nearly overcome by laughter, but broke off abruptly as Potter directed his broom directly at him. The Slytherin spun away and heard a deafening CRACK as the bludger snapped Potter's arm. But, looking again, Draco's heart plummeted. Potter had caught the snitch. Gryffindor had won the game.

* * *

"I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, Malfoy!" Flint was terrifyingly furious. No one had ever seen the captain as furious as he was now. "It was right bloody next to you! What the bloody hell? I've half a mind to cut you from the team after all of that! You're a bloody disgrace! It was right next to you!" Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see the Weasley twins and Jordan listening in. "I don't bloody care if it's thanks to you we've got these brooms, not if that's how you're going to bloody play! How the hell do you not notice the whole bloody part that you're supposed to play? This is completely unbelievable, Malfoy!"

He continued on like this for a half an hour, before allowing the second year to leave the locker rooms. He retreated immediately to the dungeons, immediately changing out of his robes and into his silk pajamas. He was still awake a few hours later when the rest of the second years entered the dorm, and lay there listening to the snores of his housemates, unable to fall asleep.

* * *

"Draco, a word in my office?" His godfather's voice was cold, in a way that Draco rarely heard directed at himself.

"Yes, sir." Snape led the way to his office in silence. It was only once they were seated that either of them spoke. "I'm sorry, Uncle Sev. I really have no idea how I managed to not see it! I mean, it was right there, but Potter managed to get to it first, and I…"

"You think I brought you here to discuss Quidditch?"

Draco looked up at him, surprised. "Of course, isn't that why you…"

"No, Draco. I had you come here because of your little trip to Professor Sinistra's office a while back. It seems that… a few people are under the opinion that _you_ are the Heir of Slytherin."

"_WHAT!_ Uncle Sev, you know that's absurd! I haven't even asked anyone outside of Slytherin house! I know you said to let it go, but…"

"Draco," the man interrupted him. "I told you to be careful. There were a few members of… another house who have been overheard repeatedly discussing ways of getting you to confess to being the Heir. I told you how many times to let this go. I told you, your father told you, Mr. Zabini's parents have told the lot of you to let it go, as have Mr. Nott's parents, and Mr. Flint's parents, and Mr. Rowle's parents, and…"

"Okay, okay, I get it. No more detective work. Got it."

"Do not interrupt me again, Mr. Malfoy." Draco swallowed. Formality between them outside of classes was never a good sign. Severus sighed. "There was another attack last night, and I know that you had nothing to do with it, but a certain group of Gry… other students…"

"It's Potter, Weasley and Granger, isn't Uncle Sev?"

"Yes. It seems that the 'golden trio' is set to believe the worst of you, so it may be wise to… let everything about the Heir of Slytherin and the Chamber of Secrets go. You know nothing about it, and stop acting as if you do. It is dangerous, and could very well get you expelled. Unless you want to explain to your father how you managed to get expelled in your second year, I'd recommend you stop this foolishness at once. You are dismissed."

"Yes, sir," Draco said softly. "I…"

"You are dismissed, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco hung his head and left the office. He knew his godfather was right, but hated every bit of admitting it.

* * *

"Draco! You're not going to believe it!"

"What now, Theo? I'm trying to sleep."

"No, get up! Get up! Get up! They're starting a dueling club! First meeting's tonight! We've all got to go! I told Blaise and Crabbe and Goyle earlier. They're all going. And I think Pansy said she and Millicent are going too. You _are_ going, right?"

"Sure, whatever, now let me sleep, Nott!"

"Fine, fine. It's tonight at eight. Great Hall. Be there."

Draco laid back against his pillows again, but after ten minutes of lying there, he mentally cursed Theodore Nott, got up, and grabbed a fresh set of robes. He wouldn't be going to sleep until later.

* * *

"Gather round, gather round!"

"Great, it's Pretty Boy. Guess we'll learn as much as we do in class. Nothing," Draco muttered to Blaise.

"Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions – for full details, see my published works." Draco heard Blaise scoff. "Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape. He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin."

Draco snorted. "A tiny bit," he whispered to Theo. "How long before Pretty Boy's knocked on his ass?" The others had trouble keeping their laughter quiet.

"Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry – you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

"Yes, but will we have a defense teacher, that is the real question," Blaise whispered.

Draco had never seen his godfather's upper lip as curled as it was. If Snape looked at him like that, he'd be running.

Snape and Lockhart turned to each other and bowed. They raised their wands in front of them.

"As you can see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position. On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"No," Draco muttered, "just to wipe that creepy smile off pretty-boy's face."

"One – two – three – "

"Expelliarmus!" Snape shouted, and with a flash of scarlet light, Lockhart was blasted off his feet, flew backwards, smashed into a wall, and slid down it to the floor. Draco was not the only one laughing as hard as was humanly possible. Snape had put a little too much power into a basic disarming charm.

"Do you think he's all right?" he heard Hermione Granger shriek, but Potter and Weasley's answer of "Who cares," was quite accurate for most of the school.

"That was a Disarming Charm – as you see, I've lost my wand – ah, thank you Miss Brown – yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy – however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see."

"Yeah, only Lockhart expected an AK or something. Or he should have, the way he's talking to Snape. Merlin, does Pretty Boy have _any_ sense?"

"Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me – "

They waited a bit, but eventually, Draco heard, "Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. And you Miss Granger – you can partner Miss Bulstrode." Draco inwardly groaned.

"Face your partners!" Lockhart shouted. "And bow!"

Draco and Malfoy barely inclined their heads, both keeping eye contact with the other.

"Wands at the ready! When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents – only to disarm them – we don't want any accidents – one… two… three –"

On the count of two, Draco whispered "Mobilicorpus," but instead of levitating Potter, all it succeeded in doing was making Potter stumble a bit.

"Rictusempra!" Draco dissolved into fits of laughter.

But not so badly that he couldn't hex Potter again, so he gasped, "Tarantallegra!" and Potter began an odd sort of dancing.

"I said disarm only!" Lockhart shrieked. "Stop! Stop!"

"Finite Incantatem," Snape shouted, and the hexes were lifted instantly, and both were able to survey the damage. A greenish smoke hung over the two. Weasley was holding up another Gryffindor and was apologizing for whatever his incompetence had created. But Millicent and Hermione Granger hadn't stopped moving. They were engaged in an odd wrestling pose, with Millicent holding Granger in a headlock, both their wands forgotten on the floor. Draco snorted; that was so typical of Millicent. Potter pulled Millicent off of Granger, and Lockhart attempted to gain control of the situation by offering to demonstrate how to block spells.

But upon catching the glint in Snape's eye, he asked for a volunteer pair instead. Draco snorted.

Until, "How about Malfoy and Potter?" Snape said with a smile. Draco sneered at Potter and they stood facing one another once more.

"Now Harry, when Draco points his wand at you, you do _this_." Lockhart attempted a weird wiggling action and dropped his wand. "Woops – my wand is a little overexcited."

Snape moved closer to Draco and whispered, "Serpensortia." Draco smirked.

"Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?"

"Scared?" Draco muttered, so that only Potter and his godfather could hear.

"You wish," Potter whispered.

"Just do what I did, Harry."

"What, drop my wand?"

"Three, two, one, go!"

"Serpensortia!" Draco bellowed, raising his wand. A long, black snake shot out the end of his wand. The snake edged its way towards Potter, and Draco watched, his smirk masking his horror.

"Don't move, Potter, I'll get rid of it," Snape said lazily. It was clear that, for some reason, his godfather was enjoying this.

"Allow me," Lockhart shouted, brandishing his wand at the snake. But instead of vanishing , the snake flew ten feet in the air and landed, hissing and angry, toward a Hufflepuff boy that Draco vaguely recalled being named Finch-something.

And then it happened. Potter stepped forward and hissed. Draco stared. How in the hell could Harry Bloody Potter be a parselmouth?

"What do you think you're playing at?" the Hufflepuff shouted, and stormed out of the hall. Which Draco found to be idiotic, as it was quite obvious that Potter had stopped the snake with… whatever he had said.

Snape stepped forward and vanished the snake with a wave of his wand, but stood still, staring at Potter with a calculating look in his eyes. And then Draco remembered the conversation he had heard the year before, "It wouldn't be the first time that a Potter tried to get rid of someone that he doesn't like, only to lose his nerve at the last moment." He had heard it directly from his godfather's mouth. And now, Harry Potter is a parselmouth. Potter could be the Heir of Slytherin. But the idea of the Golden Gryffindor being the heir to Salazar Slytherin was absurd. Right?

It was only a short time later when yet another attack, this time on the Hufflepuff Justin Finch-Fletchley and the Gryffindor ghost, Sir Nicholas. It seemed not even ghosts were safe from the Heir.

* * *

Draco received a letter just before the Christmas holidays informing him of his parents' vacation in France. They instructed him to stay at Hogwarts for the holiday, so Crabbe and Goyle stayed as well. Draco was wandering the halls looking for his classmates. Before he found them, however, he heard a banging noise and some shouting from inside a broom closet. He approached the door with caution, but upon hearing Crabbe's yell of "Someone help!" he pulled out his wand.

"Allohomora," Draco muttered, and the door opened. Crabbe and Goyle, who had been leaning on the door, spilled out and Goyle landed on top of Crabbe, both at Draco's feet. He chuckled a little at the predicament before asking, "And how did you end up locked in there?"

"No idea," Goyle said.

"We were on our way back to the common room and then woke up in there," Crabbe added.

Draco told the two to head back to the dormitory. He had a vague idea what was going on, and had a feeling it had something to do with Potter and Weasley, and possibly Hermione Granger as well. He headed toward the Great Hall, knowing that the other two would head directly to the dorms.

It was in the hallway, however, that Draco found out what had happened. Standing in front of him, arguing, was a mirror image of Crabbe and Goyle, and they were arguing with Percy Weasley.

"I am a Prefect," Weasley was saying to the two imposters. "Nothing's about to attack _me._"

"There you are," Draco said slowly. "Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I've been looking for you, I want to show you something really funny." He looked at the red-head. "And what're you doing down here, Weasley?"

"You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect! I don't like your attitude."

Draco smiled and gestured for the two to follow him. "That Peter Weasley," he said, purposely changing the other's name.

"Percy," the fake Crabbe corrected him. This confirmed Draco's idea; this was Weasley and, probably, Potter, and Granger must have made a Polyjuice Potion. There was no way that these two idiots could have made _that_ potion on their own, after all. And his godfather had warned him that those three were saying that they thought Draco was the Heir.

"Whatever. I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's heir single-handed." He laughed. He was definitely going to regret this.

They reached the entryway to the common room and Draco decided to have a bit of fun. "What's the new password again?"

"Er –" the imposter Goyle said. Draco smirked.

"Oh yeah, pure-blood." He entered the empty common room and they followed. He caught them looking around at the place. "Wait here, I'll go and get it – my father's just sent it to me."

He turned as he entered the dorms. They sat in the middle of the common room. Crabbe and Goyle _never_ chose the seating, Draco always did. He smirked.

As he entered the dorms, Goyle looked up. "Figure anything out, Malfoy?"

"Yeah. Where's that clipping you showed me about Weasley Sr.? I feel like showing it off."

"Er – " Goyle could be so thick sometimes.

"Over here," Crabbe said, holding out the page.

"Thanks." Draco left and immediately handed the page to Weasley. He was stunned when the Weasel actually managed a forced laugh. Potter, on the other hand, simply handed the page back to him.

"Well? Don't you think it's funny?"

Potter gave a fake laugh. Draco sneered.

"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half an go join them. You'd never know the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they behave." Weasley's face contorted with fury. "What's up with you, Crabbe?"

"Stomach-ache."

"Well, go up to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick from me." Potter glared, but Draco pretended not to notice. "You know, I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't reported all these attacks yet. I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father's always said old Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loves Muggle-borns. A decent headmaster would never've let slime like that Creevey in." He started miming taking photos. "'Potter, can I have your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?'" Neither of them laughed. "What is it with you two?"

Potter and Weasley forced a laugh. _They must think I'm really thick,_ Draco thought to himself.

"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," said Draco slowly, contemplating his every word. He couldn't make it seem like he disagreed with the Heir, but he also had to show that it wasn't him. "He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped up Granger Mudblood. And people think he's Slytherin's heir!" Draco paused. "I wish I knew who it is. I could help them."

Weasley's jaw literally dropped. Potter said, "You must have some idea who's behind it all?"

"You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?" Draco snapped. "And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course," he added, "it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing — last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time…" He paused. He had long since noticed everyone listening in. "I hope it's Granger," he said with finality.

Weasley clenched his fists.

"D'you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?"

_D'you know that Goyle's the stupid one and only Crabbe uses full sentences?_ Draco thought to himself with a sneer. "Oh, yeah… whoever it was was expelled. They're probably still in Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" Potter asked.

"Azkaban – the wizard prison, Goyle. Honestly if you were any slower, you'd be going backward." Draco relished the flash of anger in Potter's eyes, even if it _was_ on Goyle's face.

He shifted in his chair and said, "Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment." He hesitated for a second before deciding to make Potter and Weasley even more uncomfortable. "You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?"

Potter actually managed a look of concern, but Weasley looked slightly happy at the news.

"Yeah… Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff." He paused.  
"But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor —"

"Ho!" Weasley shouted. And then blushed. Even his hair was turning red. The potion was wearing off. Draco smirked as they both looked at one another in horror. And they jumped to their feet. "Medicine for my stomach," Weasley shouted as the two ran toward the entrance and disappeared.

Draco went back to the dorms to inform Crabbe and Goyle of the incident. Needless to say, Crabbe was quite pissed, and Goyle quite confused.

* * *

The rumor mill was flying. Hermione Granger, who was known to attend class with a cold just so that she didn't miss any notes, was missing from classes. The rumors were that she was attacked, but Draco knew better. If that was the case, Potter and Weasley would be acting differently. But they weren't, so Granger must be fine. Right?

But at the beginning of February, Granger was let out of the hospital wing, and Draco connected the dots. Something had gone wrong with the Polyjuice potion, and something had happened to her. Serves her right, trying to spy on him.

* * *

Valentine's day was complete torture. Entering the Great Hall, Draco thought he went to the wrong place. Everything was decorated in various shades of pink, red, and white.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn't end here!" Draco groaned as Lockhart clapped his hands. A dozen dwarfs, all wearing golden wings and carrying harps, entered the Great Hall. "My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion!"

Draco snorted. "And the first person to ask will be treated with the Cruciatus curse," he muttered to Theo.

And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!" Flitwick buried his face in his hands.

All day long, the dwarfs kept barging into their classes to deliver valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers. And of course, Draco received one. It caught up to him in the middle of Transfiguration, much to McGonagall's displeasure.

_Eyes like the silvery moon up above,_

_Hair barely darker than that of a dove,_

_Draco, be mine,_

_While there's still time,_

_Between us there could be naught but love._

He sneered at the dwarf as it ran back out of the room, and then glanced at Pansy. She smiled lightly at him and he nodded to her. It was from Pansy. He sighed.

* * *

"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person." Draco _had_ to hear this.

"Not here," Potter hissed, clearly trying to escape.

"Stay still!" grunted the dwarf, grabbing hold of Potter's bag and pulling him back.

"Let me go!" Potter said, tugging his bag from the dwarf. With a loud ripping noise, his bag split in two. His books, wand, parchment, and quill spilled onto the floor and his ink bottle smashed over everything.

Potter scrambled about, picking up his things as quickly as he could. As he was causing a holdup in the corridor, Draco decided to intervene.

"What's going on here?"

Potter sent him a glare, but continued shoving his things into his ripped bag. _It's called Reparo,_ Draco thought to himself.

"What's all this commotion?" Percy Weasley was there, ruining most chance of Draco having any fun.

Potter ran for it, but the dwarf was quicker. He grabbed the Gryffindor around the middle and sent him crashing to the ground.

"Right," he said, sitting on Potter's legs. "Here is your singing valentine:

_His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,_

_His hair is as dark as a blackboard,_

_I wish he was mine,_

_he's really divine,_

_The hero who conquered the Dark Lord._

Potter laughed painfully, as Percy Weasley did his best to disperse the crowd – most of them laughing, and some were crying with their laughter.

"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now. And you, Malfoy —" Weasley paused.

Draco picked up a diary. He knew what it was. It was the book that his father had given the youngest Weasley.

"Give that back," said Harry quietly.

"Wonder what Potter's written in this?" Draco asked, thinking desperately, trying to find a way to keep the diary away from Potter.

"Hand it over, Malfoy," said the elder Weasley sternly.

"When I've had a look," said Draco.

Percy said, "As a school prefect —"

Potter lost his temper. He pulled out his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!" and the diary shot out of Draco's hand into the air. Ron Weasley caught it, a grin on his face.

"Harry!" said Percy Weasley loudly. "No magic in the corridors. I'll have to report this, you know!"

But it was clear that Potter didn't care. Draco was furious, so as Ginny Weasley passed him to enter her classroom, he yelled after her, "I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!"

The girl covered her face with her hands and ran into class. Ron Weasley pulled out his wand, too, but Potter pulled him away. Draco sneered at the elder Weasley and stalked off; he had a free period and would use it to think.

* * *

Easter holidays approached rapidly, giving the second years something to think about. What classes they would take the next year.

Draco barely even glanced at the list. He knew exactly what he was expected to take. He would be taking Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures.

He signed up immediately the next morning and grabbed his Nimbus 2001, intending to get a bit of flying in before the Quidditch match. Slytherin was playing Ravenclaw. Not that he was worried; he was definitely better than Chang at catching the Snitch. And the conditions were wonderful; not a cloud in the sky.

* * *

"You lose us the game again, Malfoy, and I'm going to hex you into oblivion. You lost to a bloody _mudblood_! What's gotten into you?"

"I'm sorry, Flint. Won't happen again."

"Damn sure it won't. Or you're off the team, I don't care if these brooms are from your father."

Draco knew it was an empty threat. Flint would never undermine Lucius Malfoy. No one ever did.

* * *

"This match has been cancelled. All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"

Draco was watching the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff game, but before Madame Hooch had even started the match, Professor McGonagall had come running out onto the field with a large purple megaphone. He saw her talk to Potter and, then Weasley, and then escort them both into the castle, and he knew; Hermione Granger had been attacked.

* * *

"All students will return to their House common rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities."

The Slytherins packed inside the common room listened to Professor Snape in silence. He rolled up the parchment he had read off, and vanished it.

"It is likely that the school will be closed unless the person behind it is caught. If any of you know anything, it would be wise to come forward immediately."

"Was there another attack, Professor?" Draco asked his godfather.

"Yes."

"Who…"

"A double attack. Ravenclaw prefect Penelope Clearwater and a second year Gryffindor, Hermione Granger."

Draco's heart sank as Snape looked around at them all once more before leaving the common room.

* * *

_Draco,_

_I will be coming up to the school tonight. I will be giving an Order of Suspension to Dumbledore. The governors finally agree with me that the old man has lost his touch. I will not be able to see you, as you are not to leave the Common Room without permission at this time, so I will see you in the Summer time. Unless the school is closed sooner, of course. Continue to inform me of any goings on at Hogwarts._

_Mr. Lucius Abraxus Malfoy_

Draco hated his father's formality. Even behind closed doors, everything had to be formal. He sighed and pulled out a sheet of parchment and a quill.

_Father,_

_There were two more attacks this afternoon. Two more mudbloods, Penelope Clearwater and Hermione Granger. There are still no leads on who could possibly be behind the attacks._

_Your son,_

_Draco_

He knew his father would not be impressed at the informality, but he was in a hurry. If his father would be there later today, he had to have heard of the two most recent attacks.

He hadn't told his father about Potter's suspicion of him, and was certain that his godfather hadn't either. Lucius Malfoy was not one to allow suspicion of any member of his family, and he was sure that Potter would have been threatened or silenced by now had he heard.

* * *

_Draco,_

_The suspension has been signed. Dumbledore is out of the picture. Stay out of the way, and tell your friends to do the same. You will all be safe from the monster._

_However, Severus tells me you've been asking questions – cease this at once. The last thing this family needs is to be examined because you will not leave the goings on at Hogwarts as they are. It is up to you, as the Heir to the House of Malfoy, to keep our name clear and well thought of. You will __**not**__ ruin our image, which generations of Malfoys have worked hard to protect._

_Keep this fact in mind whenever you start to act as a Gryffindor._

_Lucius Malfoy_

Draco sighed and handed the letter to Nott and Zabini, who read through it quickly and also sighed.

"Guess we can't find _anything_ out, not if our parents aren't talking and our teachers are telling our parents that we're still asking," Blaise said sullenly.

"That's the thing. Uncle Severus told me that he _wasn't_ telling father. He wouldn't lie. Not to me."

* * *

"Where's Hagrid?" Blaise asked as he, Draco, and Theo entered the Great Hall the next morning. It was rare that the gamekeeper missed meals, and they had Care of Magical Creatures first lesson of the day.

"Who cares?" a voice behind the trio asked. Looking up, the boys saw Flint and Montague, a sight which was never good, in Draco's mind, since he had missed the snitch at the last match. "They cancelled the oaf's classes. Don't complain. He's been thrown in Azkaban. I reckon the nutters in the ministry think it's been him doing the attacking. Something about him having a record."

"What? Hagrid? Why would they think it was him? Wasn't he a Hufflepuff?"

"Who knows, who cares?" Montague said, sounding bored.

"And a record? What's he done?"

"None of your business, Nott. Best get to class soon, don't want Professor Snape to mark you for being late, do you?" The two walked off smirking.

"They know something," Draco said. "Something they're happy not filling us in on."

"You're on the team, maybe you can get something out of them?" Blaise said sounding hopeful.

"Yeah right. I missed the snitch. They want me off the team, but are too afraid of my dad to do it." He saw that the Golden-Trio-minus-one was approaching, so he lowered his voice. "I'm writing to mother. She'll tell me if she knows. And she won't tell father."

* * *

_Mother,_

_I know you've heard what's going on here. I'm worried. Rumor has it that Hagrid was arrested for the attacks. But really, Hagrid was a Hufflepuff, was he not? How could he possibly be the Heir to Slytherin? There's no way that he's even entirely human, yet alone the heir to the greatest wizard of all time since Merlin._

_The attacks have stopped, for the time being, but I don't see that the removal of that idiot could possibly change anything. So far, us purebloods have been safe, but that doesn't mean one of us might accidently get caught in the crossfire._

_If you know anything, please, mother, tell me. I know that father doesn't want me mixed up in any of this, but I already am mixed in. Everyone here is, and they've all been just as ill at ease about the entire situation._

_I'm scared that I could be next, mother. Please tell me what you know._

_Your loving son,_

_Draco_

"You are absolutely brilliant, mate," Theo said as he read over Draco's letter. "Playing the scared twelve year old. Such a Slytherin move."

Draco smirked and tied the letter to Blaise's owl's leg. He couldn't use his own; his father would see it if he did. But the Zabinis were only close to Narcissa, not Lucius, so it would be she who received it.

He hoped.

* * *

_Draco,_

_I know very little about when the Chamber was opened last time, as it was well before my time. I do know, however, that it was fifty years ago. I researched some, and asked your father some things, so I know a bit of information about the opening of the Chamber before. And I also know that a Ravenclaw mudblood by the name of Myrtle Thompson. I believe she is known today as Moaning Myrtle, the ghost that haunts the girls' toilet on the third floor. I'd recommend not trying to ask her anything, however. She can be a bit of a gossip and takes offense at the slightest comment._

_I also know that it was around that same time that Hagrid was expelled. I know not if there is any significance to that, or if it was a coincidence. But, if he has been arrested (which your father has confirmed), then it is likely that the attacks stopped after his expulsion. In which case, you have no longer anything to fear from the monster, as the culprit has been removed. I agree with you, however, that the likelihood of Rubeus Hagrid being related to the great Salazar Slytherin is unlikely at best._

_I understand your fear, Draco, but you needn't worry. No pureblood, or half-blood for that matter, was attacked last time. It was only the mudbloods. And no one would ever think that a Malfoy, or a Black for that matter, would be a mudblood, or even a friend to them._

_Keep in mind that I agree with your father that you shouldn't seem too knowledgeable about the Chamber of Secrets. But you should know enough to lessen your curiosity. I would much rather you hear about it from your family than from… outside sources to whom your curiosity could appear corrupt._

_I miss you and hope to hear from you again soon, my son._

_Narcissa Black Malfoy_

"Well, that's something at least," Draco muttered to Blaise and Theo. "Maybe that idiot _was_ the Heir."

* * *

In Potions the next day, Draco decided he would put on a show for the Golden-Trio-minus-one, because he hated seeing them sitting there perfectly alright. They showed no remorse in the fact that their third wheel was in the hospital petrified.

Potter and Weasley were sitting behind him, Crabbe, and Goyle, so Draco took his chance.

"I always thought Father might be the one who got rid of Dumbledore," he said loudly. "I told you he thinks Dumbledore's the worst headmaster the school's ever had. Maybe we'll get a decent headmaster now. Someone who won't want the Chamber of Secrets closed. McGonagall won't last long, she's only filling in…"

Snape swept past them.

"Sir, why don't you apply for the headmaster's job?" Draco said, glancing backward toward Potter. The Gryffindor seeker's face was tense, and Weasley's was red with suppressed rage.

"Now, now, Malfoy," said his godfather, showing a small smile. "Professor Dumbledore has only been suspended by the governors. I daresay he'll be back with us soon enough."

"Yeah, right," said Draco, smirking at their shared love of tormenting Potter. "I expect you'd have Father's vote, sir, if you wanted to apply for the job— I'll tell Father you're the best teacher here, sir. I'm quite surprised the mudbloods haven't all packed their bags by now," he went on. "Bet you five Galleons the next one dies." He paused for a second and looked directly at Weasley. This one was for him. "Pity it wasn't Granger."

As expected, Weasley dove at him, but as the bell had just rung, it went unnoticed. Potter and Dean Thomas held him back, and Draco escaped being hit. Barely.

* * *

"All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please." Professor McGonagall's voice seemed strained, and Draco knew there was another attack. He and the others made their way to their Common Room to await more information.

He sat with Theo, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle, and waited for what seemed like hours. In reality, it was probably only a matter of ten minutes when Professor Snape entered the Common Room. There was a dark look on his face.

"I am sorry to be the one to tell you all this. Hogwarts will be closed tomorrow."

There was a large amount of whispering at this. "Why?" "What's happened?" "Another attack?"

"Silence." The command was followed instantly. "You will need to pack away your belongings. The Express will be here tomorrow morning to bring you all back to Kings Cross. We will contact your families if you are unable."

"But Professor, what happened?" Pansy spoke up quietly.

"There has been a student taken by the monster into the Chamber."

"Who – "

"A first year Gryffindor by the name of Ginevra Weasley." Snape paused. "Go and pack your things. I will come back and inform if I hear any further news." The professor looked around at them all and a strange look came into his eyes. "I would like to hear from you all as to how your studies progress, should Hogwarts not be reopened next year." And with that, he left the Common Room.

Draco felt sick as he took the stairs into his dormitory.

"You reckon Weasley's dead?" Nott sounded the same as Draco felt.

"Yes." He attempted to sound nonchalant, as Crabbe and Goyle were present, but was positive he hadn't quite managed it.

* * *

"Get up. All of you. Now." Draco jolted awake at the sound of his godfather's voice echoing through the Slytherin dormitories. They all were immediately headed down to the Common Room, regardless of the fact that they were all in pajamas.

"The Chamber has been closed, the monster slaughtered, and the culprit is out of commission. The school will not be closed. There is a feast in the Great Hall which will be occurring momentarily. Everyone is to meet in the Great Hall immediately." He looked around at them all and smirked. "I assume you will all find out the details at the feast, so I will not bore you with them now." He was met with glares from most of the students and his smirk grew more pronounced.

* * *

The first thing that happened was the petrified students coming into the Great Hall. He briefly heard Granger screaming toward Potter and Weasley, "You solved it! You solved it!" He assumed she had figured out the secret before they did and left some sort of clue. No way could Potter have done it with only Weasley for guidance.

Hagrid entered, to much applause from most of the school, at a little past three in the morning, having been released from Azkaban.

Potter and Weasley had been given two hundred points to Gryffindor apiece, securing the House Cup for their house. Draco secretly agreed with this pronouncement; it was thanks to them, after all, that the school was saved from the monster of Slytherin.

Exams were to be cancelled, much to the delight of all the students. But what excited most of the school the most was the announcement that Professor Lockhart would not be returning the next year (or finishing out this one, either). Even Snape, who was unknown to cheer along with a crowd, applauded loudly at this.

But what sat with Draco the most was that his father was no longer a school governor. He had been accused, probably truthfully, of threatening the rest of the governors to suspend Dumbledore, and the headmaster and the ministry did not take lightly to this. Add in the fact that it was widely believed, again truthfully, that it was he who gave the diary to the Weasley girl, and he was lucky not to have been placed in Azkaban himself.

But, as he was constantly reminded, Malfoys were above such trivial things as the law.

* * *

**_I wasn't quite sure where to end this, but I gues this works well enough. Not exactly delighted with the end, but here we are._**

**_Sorry it took me so long, I lost my muse. lol I'll try to update again within a month. lol_**


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